


A Rose By Any Other Name May Just Be Poisoned

by sextipsfortheapocalypse



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cautious Fluff, Crack, I was tired of all the tragedy in this pairing, JUST LET THEM BE HAPPY, M/M, for like 5 minutes please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10495647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sextipsfortheapocalypse/pseuds/sextipsfortheapocalypse
Summary: Yep, this is some lovely crack we got here if I do say so myself mhmmmm.Lance and Zarkon make flower crowns because bonding. They kiss and Blue is probably a voyeur.





	

Never had Lance doubted Blue. Okay, maybe a little. Mainly about things dealing with his worth as her partner, but never her decisions in battle and strategy. Although, his love life may have been where he should have drew the metaphorical line.

Even Lance couldn't see the purpose of Galra-napping a barely healed, cat-turtle-bat thing to some topiary disaster of a planet. Yet here he was, sitting with Zarkon in a field of flowers that put Ouran Highschool backgrounds to shame.

“Soooo, uh,” Lance tried, fiddling with the oddly colored and feathery grass, looking anywhere but glowering yellow eyes. He was sure if the Galra could actually move faster than a drugged turtle that he would have been dead ticks ago, even with Blue's looming presence at his back, curled around the two lazily. 

“Am I to assume you have done this at the Blue Lion's prompting?”

Lance startled, bristling like a cat, subconsciously pushing back into the cool metal of Blue's chest like he could phase through into the safety of her cockpit. “Yeah...she, uhm, said she misses Black, but, like Shiro and Keith or something. I don't know. Magical robot lions, am I right?”

Lance shrugged, pulling up his knees in a defensive position. Blue was so pleased at Zarkon's being there, he could feel her purrs of contentment through their bond, catch glimpses of the blue quintessence lofting softly around the black dancing about Zarkon. She had told him how it had always been Black and Blue, but the existing bond between Keith and Shiro severed that.

In the gradient of Black and Red, there wasn't a shade for Blue.

Despite her assurance, Lance felt it a failure on his part, and that had him doing something so ridiculous as this. As long as Blue was happy, it was worth the absolute fear and awkwardness the situation brought about.

Zarkon's yellow eyes appraised him – or honestly he could have just been staring blankly ahead, it was hard to discern with no pupils to follow – and he hummed noncommittally, but it seemed to decide something for the Galra.

With slow movement, Zarkon rose, casting Lance in his shadow. A shiver of fear shot up his spine, but Blue remained passive, cold and solid on his back. 

“Help me gather some flora.”

Lance blinked stupidly, but Zarkon had already turned to pick some flowers from the abundant gardens around them. Cautiously, he trotted to join, sticking as far away as the other as possible. 

“None of this is poisonous right?” Lance asked, poking a plump sprout that was oozing something yellow.

Zarkon cast him a gaze before turning back to his gathering. “No.” 

Satisfied with that, Lance brought the sticky liquid to his nose and sniffed. It smelled like a sweet honey and he wondered if it was some sort of space-honey he could use. Honey was great for the skin and what passed for Altean tea could really use some space-honey. Curiously, he poked his tongue out for a taste, finding that yes, it did have a honey-esque flavor, perhaps a touch tarter than the smell advertised but still good.

“At least not to a Galra. I have never encountered a human reaction to it.”

Lance sputtered, using his non-sticky hand to wipe his tongue. He turned to Zarkon and found the Galra's arms filled with alien flowers and an uncomfortable twitch at his lip. It reminded Lance of whenever Keith tried to- oh there was just no way.

“Did you just make a joke?!” His voice was muffled by his fingers still caught in his mouth, but he didn't have time to feel self conscious about looking like a hot mess in front of his enemy because holy shit, the cat-turtle made a joke.

Zarkon made another vague sound, carrying his load slowly back to the protection of Blue's body. Lance watched the slow progression, wondering if Zarkon was in as much pain as that limp broadcasted. Despite it all, Lance felt a pang of sympathy, and hurried to grab as many flowers as possible and skip back over, forcing himself to sit beside the Galra.

“Never took you as a flower kinda guy.” Lance commented, dumping his flowers on top of where Zarkon had placed his. His hand was still sticky and stray petals remained caught between his fingers and he waved his hand frantically in an attempt to dislodge them.

“This is an activity the previous Blue Paladin and I have partaken in.” 

“Oh?” Lance stopped his unsuccessful attempts, staring openly at the Galra now, interest clear on his face. 

In the back of his mind, he had always been aware that Zarkon had been friends with the previous Paladins, had been their leader even, but to think that meant he had to deviate from the mental image of Zarkon as having always been some scarred up, evil creature, muttering word domination plans into dark rooms.

Lance tried to imagine a younger Zarkon sitting in a field of flowers, not being evil, and it wasn't as hard as he thought. Without all his armor and with the frailty of his injuries, Zarkon looked human.

At least in the figurative sense, as he was still very much a purple cat-turtle.

Zarkon reached for the flowers, carefully curling their stems with hands that trembled, weaving them together with a forgotten sureness. “The flora on Altea was enviable. Often times I would visit and we would content ourselves with kit activities.”

Belatedly, Lance followed suite, folding the stems of the flowers together. “Flower crowns.” He mused, relaxing into Blue, giving away his tension as the ridiculous situation settled in his mind. “I'm making flower crowns with Zarkon. Destroyer of Worlds, yeah, that Zarkon.”

“Emperor is sufficient.”

Lance laughed, recognizing that twitch of lips. “Oh, Emperor Zarkon. So modest!” He jested, fanning himself with his sticky hand.

Zarkon eyed him, head tilted just-so. Lance faltered under the gaze, nervously watching the quintessence twirl around each other. Slowly Zarkon moved to place his finished crown onto Lance's head, keeping his actions apparent so Lance could move away if he wanted.

Lance didn't. He held his breath as clawed fingers played with his hair, arranging the short locks until Zarkon seemed pleased with the positioning and pulled back.

Blushing, Lance finished his crown in silence, unable to even glance in the direction of Zarkon. Feeling him there was enough, their quintessences poking and prodding at each other freely, not held back by the limitations Lance and Zarkon had placed on themselves.

Once Lance had tied off the last stems of his crown, he held it nervously in his hands for several seconds to collect himself. “Alrighty.” He breathed, facing Zarkon to present his work, more petals attached to his tacky hand. “A Lance Original. Good sir, it will bring out the purple in your fur or your money back.”

With less finesse than Zarkon, Lance plopped the crown on Zarkon's head, having to kneel to do so, and he only fussed with its placement enough to sneak a touch of pointed ears before he sat back down.

For a few painful heart beats, they stared at one another. Zarkon's flower crown was crooked and anxiously Lance reached to correct it with his sticky hand, but it was caught in before he could get close enough.

Lance froze, looking into yellow eyes that he could not tell anything about. No pupils to slit with adrenaline or be blown wide with intrigue, but he felt pinned by Zarkon's stare nonetheless. With those same deliberately cautious motions, Zarkon inched forward to run his tongue over the mess on Lance's hand.

There was plenty of opportunity to pull away. Lance did not take any of them.

His breath hitched at the first lap of tongue, sandpaper rough. The texture catching on the calluses on his finger tips, tickling the soft webbing between each finger, gliding over his palm in easy strokes until there wasn't a drop of space-honey left and Lance was transfixed.

“Paladin,” Zarkon purred, giving Lance a fright back into reality – when had he allowed Zarkon that close? “It is ill-advised to allow distraction among the enemy.”

Lance watched that lip twitch with heavy eyes, licking his own lips in a nervous fit. “Yeah?” He breathed, flicking blue eyes to yellow, mischievous behind his dark lashes. “You should listen to your own advice.”

Using Zarkon's grip on his wrist against him, Lance pulled the Galra forward, capturing twitching lips, eager to explore a mouth that lingered with the taste of honey.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you read, like, five fics for Lance/Zarkon and they are all #tragic so you just gotta create a little bit of fluff for no logical reason other than to save your #delicate soul.
> 
> Unbeta'd. I'll find a poor child to beta all my crap one day but until then, just yodel if you see something messed up.


End file.
